He did not send a sword flying—nor was Unhwi even drawing up qi.

A moment ago he had been tense; now he felt almost abashed. It was understandable. Unhwi was reading a book.

Without lifting his eyes from the pages, Unhwi spoke.

“Do you have any interest in poetry?”

“…Somewhat.”

“Here is an interesting couplet.”

In a low voice, Unhwi intoned:

An order is the sword in the heart,

and righteousness walks beneath one’s feet.

Sang Jiheok’s pupils trembled.

He had never heard it, but the substance was not ordinary.

“It is the Song of Choice by Muyeom of the Moon State. Isn’t it quite fine?”

“…Not bad—but it sounds as if it’s aimed at me.”

“Then you heard it well.”

After a brief silence, Sang Jiheok answered in a quiet voice.

“…Did you look into me separately?”

“I did not, but I did not suppose that among those closest to Yeon Songbaek there would be even one who could not read his mind.”

Still not lifting his gaze from the book, Unhwi smiled faintly and went on.

“Not one of the Ihwa Seven Swords, but a Grand Elder—fortunately, you are that one.”

“…”

“Here is another curious couplet.”

Slowly, Unhwi lifted his eyes to Sang Jiheok and recited:

The sword is in the hand, yet as if not there;

the Way is in the heart, and seems to be there.

Thuk.

He shut the book.

“This, too, is Muyeom’s verse. Titled Warrior’s Lament.”

“…”

“A good poem. Especially fitting to the present.”

Sang Jiheok’s face went pale.

It was only two poems.

He could not be sure the book even truly contained them.

But with those two alone, Sang Jiheok realized that Unhwi had seen straight through his inner mind.

“Come in.”

Swallowing, Sang Jiheok stepped into the carriage and closed the door. In the narrow space, only the two of them remained.

Setting the closed book to the side, Unhwi spoke gently.

“Senior Sang.”

“…Yes.”

“They say poetry is a mirror that reveals the heart.”

Unhwi looked straight into Sang Jiheok’s eyes.

“I can roughly guess what Yeon Songbaek ordered you to do. But your heart seems to be elsewhere.”

“…”

“I don’t care to circle the point. I have things to do, and so do you. So let’s go straight to the main question. Will ~Nоvеl𝕚ght~ that do?”

“…It will.”

“Good. Then let me hear your choice first. Without trimming.”

Sang Jiheok ran a hand down his face and answered shortly.

“…I want to live.”

“I see.”

At Unhwi’s offhand reply, Sang Jiheok was the one who felt wrong-footed.

“…That’s all?”

“Is there more?”

“Why… don’t you condemn me?”

“Why should I?”

Sang Jiheok blinked.

“Senior, you are plainly older and more experienced than I. More than that, here and now you are treating me with due consideration.”

“…”

“For that very reason I will speak earnestly: to condemn the instinct to survive is something one should not do as a person, before being a warrior.”

“A person before a warrior…”

“Who wishes to die? If one must die as a warrior, it should be as part of the pursuit of one’s own martial Way. But now, before you can pursue the Way, you are about to die a dog’s death because of someone’s greed. Yes. I understand. How could I condemn that?”

His chest tightened.

It was the first time seeing him in person, and he was this much.

There was a seasoned quality beyond his years, and his heart was broader than the Black Sea.

…I’ve gone dull.

To reach Celestial Being means not only talent but staggering experience.

There is one thing that makes all of that crumble.

Will.

How one hones the sword one keeps in one’s own breast.

And when one sheaths it.

When one gives oneself to a body and rises to a very high seat within it, the time spent honing the sword diminishes, and naturally one begins to put the blade away.

From that point, one spends the years not as a warrior, but as a power-holder.

That was the difference.

Unhwi had not sheathed the sword in his heart and honed it sharp at every moment.

To walk the martial Way he himself pursued.

It deserved respect.

“Are you at the last?”

At Unhwi’s words, Sang Jiheok’s eyes flew wide.

“…Before I answer that, may I ask one thing?”

“You may ask more than one.”

“One will do. How much do you know?”

Unhwi crossed his legs and smiled softly.

“I have no shame in saying ‘I don’t know’ when I don’t. Therefore I will be clear. I know everything.”

“…How could you…?”

“I did say you could ask more than one question, but I did not say I would answer them all, Senior.”

He was left speechless.

This was a man who truly shook the martial world—not only with force, but by steering people with words.

Hoo.

Drawing a short, deep breath, Sang Jiheok spoke firmly.

“I respect Sect Master Yeon. For a full twenty years… ahem. For that long we have been together. He has made this place my grave today, but I do not wish to make it so.”

“Go on, Senior.”

“Today, here, I need a sure pretext to live. I would borrow your keen eye to make that pretext—will you help me?”

The wages of loyalty are sweet, but they require nourishment to keep.

Regarding him steadily, Unhwi answered briefly.

“There is one.”

At that, Sang Jiheok’s face brightened at once.

“I already know what Sect Master Yeon aims to do. And I know what it will cost and what must be sacrificed; for that reason, I need you as well, Senior Sang.”

So saying, Unhwi immediately took up brush and paper and began to write.

It was lengthy. He folded it carefully and handed it to Sang Jiheok.

“Deliver this to Sect Master Yeon. Then everything will unravel easily.”

“…May I confirm the contents?”

“You may, but personally I advise against it.”

“Your reason?”

“For trust.”

“Trust toward whom?”

“Toward Sect Master Yeon—your trust.”

“…Hm.”

“It is only advice. What will you do?”

After a moment’s struggle, Sang Jiheok wiped his face.

He set his mind.

“I will deliver it to the Sect Master unopened.”

“Good.”

Unhwi extended his hand, and Sang Jiheok took it.

“May what happens today be your lifeline, Senior.”

He nodded.

So did Sang Jiheok.

***

Yeon Songbaek stared in silence at Sang Jiheok before him.

What to call it—

Perhaps a little disconcerting. This was not what he had had in mind.

Collecting his thoughts inwardly, Yeon Songbaek asked quietly,

“You exerted everything you could and arrived in merely a day, and then simply returned?”

“…Yes.”

“And this letter, he told you to hand it to me.”

“Yes.”

“Grand Elder Sang.”

“Yes, Sect Master.”

“I am going to read this letter now. If there is nothing in it to persuade me, you will pay the price. Can you bear it?”

“…Yes. I can bear it.”

Yeon Songbaek nodded and was about to open the letter.

Then a thought occurred.

“Did you read it?”

“I did not.”

His eyes twitched.

“You did not…? Why?”

“It is a letter from the Heavenly Arbiter of the Heavenly Alliance addressed solely to you, Sect Master. For me to read it first would be discourtesy to you.”

A short laugh escaped him.

Sang Jiheok was certainly a capable man.

He liked him as well.

The problem was that he knew the secret.

He had meant to discard him after use, but seeing this made his heart ache again.

Silently, he unfolded the letter.

As he read, Yeon Songbaek’s expression chilled.

—

To Sect Master Yeon Songbaek,

There is an old verse that goes:

Three men go into the mountains,

and one alone comes out.

Twenty years have passed.

In that time the Ihwa Sword Heaven Sect has truly prospered, and so has Cheonrim.

But the stars in the night sky whispered old secrets.

Records opened beneath moonlight contained far more than I had known.

Fate is such a curious thing that one wonders if what is hidden reveals itself of its own accord.

Yes. It is time to write a new tale.

A tale of one thought dead who returns.

A tale of vengeance completed and a rightful place regained.

Every tale has an end, and every mask a time to be removed.

I will set that stage for you.

Heavenly Arbiter Seol Unhwi.

—

As the killing intent drifted out, subtle and spreading, Sang Jiheok swallowed.

What in the world could it say?

“…Grand Elder Sang.”

“Yes.”

“Did you perhaps tell the Heavenly Arbiter the truth?”

“…No. Never—never did I tell him.”

“Really? Then how does he know the secret?”

“S—Sect Master… I truly do not know.”

Yeon Songbaek, who had been looking at him quietly, looked back at the letter.

The content was outrageous.

“A conclusion everyone can smile at… This is quite the piece.”

There was more after that.

Reading to the end, Yeon Songbaek burst into an open laugh.

Sang Jiheok looked at him, puzzled, about to ask what on earth it said—

Yeon Songbaek’s laughter vanished cleanly.

“I must go.”

“…Go where…?”

“I have to see for myself. This man called Seol Unhwi.”

If what was in this letter was fact—

Then the martial world’s judgment of Seol Unhwi would have to be remade.

A man who shakes the martial world; brilliant now and brighter to come; a genius who, two or three decades hence, could contest for the seat of Martial Supremacy.

All of it must change.

He certainly shakes the martial world, and even bringing all the value of the future forward, he is not a being describable with the word brilliant; not in two or three decades, but in a few years—ten at the longest—he will, as a matter of course, sit in the seat of Martial Supremacy.

Yeon Songbaek rose.

Sooner than he had expected, but he would meet this genius once.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep